


for your own good

by indiavolojones



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Multi, major character death is temporary, mc/everyone honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolojones/pseuds/indiavolojones
Summary: Everything is burning."Diavolo, he - " you choke out, Beel wraps his arms around you in a hug before you finish your sentence. Melting into it, you close your eyes and return the embrace."We know. Hold on tight."The Diavolo Betrayal!AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 605





	1. Chapter 1

Everything is burning.

"Diavolo, he - " you choke out, Beel wraps his arms around you in a hug. Melting into it, you close your eyes and return the embrace. Even as you hide your face in Beel's usual scent, the smell of acrid smoke on his clothes burns your nostrils.

"We know. Hold on tight."

Beel's black, gossamer wings flutter out behind him. You feel him tense, crouching before the ground disappears from beneath your feet. Gasping, you clutch at the other's shoulders - smoke billows from the streets of the Celestial Realm, once glorious in its marble structures, cream stone arches.

"How could this happen?" You ask, working past the lump in your throat.

Beel's clenched jaw and silence speak volumes. You share his frustration. This was supposed to be the showcase of two years of work - your exchange program couldn't have gone better. Passing with flying colors (with the aid of the brothers and other friends you'd made along the way) you saw Diavolo's vision in the distance.

You went back to the human world for barely a month before you received the offer - not an Ambassador like Solomon. Your magic paled in comparison to his, and your lineage/celestial ties made you ineligible for the position, but…

("Human Realm… Advisor?"

"You can't speak for the human world in the council, your Celestial ancestors make that a bit of a conflict of interest… but you offer wisdom and fresh insight that I believe will be a wonderful addition to the world I am trying to create." Diavolo smiles at you, sitting on your living room couch like it's the most natural thing in the world. Lucifer stands in the doorway, holding a cup of tea in one of your mugs brewed fresh by Barbatos.

He smiles as he takes a sip, looking more handsome than you remembered.)

The exchange program, following the utter success of the first year, triples in size for its second year. They build more lodging, and as the Human World Advisor, you found yourself smoothing out the wrinkles of an increased integration between devils, angels, and humans.

In most cases, this meant being a support system for humans struggling with the revelation of Divinity. Regardless, the last two years have been the best of your life. An almost alarming juxtaposition from the blasé life you led before the brothers, you have spent these years revelling in more happiness than you could have ever hoped to ask for.

With the camaraderie nurtured by the first group of exchange participants, Diavolo's dream - true peace and co-existence between the three realms - seemed possible.

Until the Summit arrived.

Once your feet touch the ground again, you find that Beel has flown the two of you to the balcony of the guest wing assigned to the devils. It's only moments before the doors fly open and you both are wrapped in the sweet smell of Asmo's perfume. Eventually, he lets go of you and Beel. You hear what happened from Asmo, his second-hand retelling filled with enough detail to catch you up to speed, but not enough to satisfy.

The agreed meeting time arrived, the Devildom and Human Realm representatives arrived at the agreed location - but He did not show up. Michael, and his enormous white wings, had stepped through the door instead.

With respectful, somber tones, it was shared that He would not be coming, but He knew that Michael would represent His best wishes.

"Something in Diavolo snapped," Asmo presses his fingertips into the furrow of his brows, massaging at the skin. A strange preventative measure for wrinkles that a demon like Asmo would never develop. "Michael just _stood_ there."

You clutch at Beel's arm.

"Snapped?" Looking around the balcony, you realize it's only the four youngest brothers. The three eldest are nowhere to be seen. You speak again before anyone has a chance to reply to your first question.

"Where's everyone else?"

"After the initial surprise, we lost them in the fighting," Satan says, not looking from his watchful place peeking through the drawn shut curtains. Past his head, you see the dark plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.

"I saw Mammon fighting a vassal of Diavolo's," Beel’s brows are scrunched together as if he can hardly believe it - you almost can't as well. You know the brothers had inhuman strength, but the era of the Celestial War was so far behind them, you’d never known them to seriously use it. "I got separated from them, and knew I had to come find you."

There's an unspoken frenetic energy to his words - you want to ask him about it, but you miss your chance as the conversation continues past.

"When I last saw them, Levi and Solomon were together at the gates helping with the wounded," Asmo offers. Your frown deepens - Levi hadn't even wanted to come. It seems his inclinations were correct.

That's covered everyone except - Your lips barely get the chance to form his name when Belphie interrupts.

"Lucifer's at his side like a dog," Belphegor snarls, his tail whipping at the floor with agitation. He paces across the tiled floor, a harsh contrast to his usual groggy demeanor. His favorite pillow is gripped in his white knuckled fists.

You blink, stunned and speechless. At Diavolo’s side? What does that mean? Lucifer would never fight his brothers - not to truly harm them. You would never believe that Lucifer’s loyalty to Diavolo superseded his love of his brothers, regardless of what he sometimes implied.

"He has no choice, Belphie." Satan protests, his own frustration evident in how he presses his fingers to his temples. There's clear, barely controlled anger bubbling under his skin, but it's his words that draw the real reaction. His words are met with resounding silence, and an array of surprised expressions.

The relationship between the first and fourth brothers has gotten better incrementally over the last year, but he's still the least likely brother to stand up for Lucifer. Satan frowns, clearly not a fan of the scrutiny. He glances at you with a somber twinge to his green eyes, "He swore an oath. His servitude for Lilith's safety."

You freeze, heart dropping into your stomach. You look down, eyes focusing on the intricate gray marbling of the floors.

"But she's been dead for hundreds of years!" Asmo says, and Beel tightens his grip around you. The extent of Lucifer's oath hasn't been tested in a long time - not since he lied to Diavolo about Belphegor's whereabouts during the first exchange program.

"But she was saved to begin with. That's what matters," Asmo finishes, bitter understanding entering his delicate features. He wraps his arms around himself, and it seems to offer him some comfort.

It's not your fault - you know this. It wasn’t even Lilith’s fault, thousands of years ago, and even then, it was Lucifer's choice to make the oath.

The thought isn't as comforting as you hoped it would be.

"That's ridiculous," Belphie says - but you can see that Satan’s words have had some kind of effect on him. The cold glint to his eyes softens just in the slightest.

"Belphie, it makes sense." Beel reaches out to his twin, and Belphie, unable to deny Beel, acquiesces. Belphie joins the space under Beel's other arm. He bristles at first when you touch him, but relaxes when you don't hesitate.

"So," You press a fond hand to Belphie's cheek, and he nuzzles into it despite himself, "What do we do?"

" _We_ will go find them," Satan says, voice full of purpose as he makes eye contact with each of the other brothers, one by one. You watch this happen, acutely aware that something is being unsaid. Asmo lets out a quiet gasp of displeasure, hand pressed against his collarbone. Beel and Belphie frown, even as they nod. You narrow your eyes at Satan.

"What are you saying?" You jump as the twins release you, and not surrounded by their warmth, you shudder at the surprise chill.

"You're a human, love," Asmo reaches out and links his hands with yours. You don't snatch your hand away, _hurt_ , like you want to - instead you squeeze, because you don't want them to leave you behind.

"No."

"Your magic isn't as powerful as Solomon’s. He could fight back if he had to," Asmo rubs his thumbs on the back of your hands, and it’s almost enough to soothe you -

"No, you can't leave me behind. No, no, _no_ \- " you shake your head, releasing Asmo and stepping back. You glare at each of them, at these stupid, wonderful devils that have made their homes in your heart. Celestial powers be damned, you can't let them go alone.

"Be reasonable," Satan tries, always the rational one, "We can't guarantee your safety out there. We can't know what Diavolo's true plan is."

"Exactly! We don't know! You could be going right into a trap."

"We'll be fine," Asmo swoops in, cupping your cheeks and stroking at an infuriating, traitorous tear, the room seeming to grow smaller in your panic. Is it the rushing of blood in your ears, or is that the sound of screaming from somewhere in the courtyard below the balcony? The solution strikes you like lightning, sucking the air out of your lungs.

"I'll use our pact," you say.

The brothers freeze.

You haven’t used your pacts with them for anything like this in a long time. It is Beel who speaks up after the long silence.

"No."

His lips are pressed together, a thin line of displeasure. He looks at the other brothers, "You all go. I'll follow."

The brothers exchange looks, but as you move to open your mouth to protest, Beel grabs you by the shoulders. He gently shakes you, forcing you to look at him, instead of the rapidly escaping brothers.

“Do not do this.” His voice around your name is a soft, familiar rumble. You find yourself being mad at him for using it now, of all times.

Your hands lay flat on the fabric of his shirt, incredulous as you narrow your eyes at him, “How could you ask this of me?”

“We have lost someone once already. I - ” Beel stops himself, frowns, as if feeling the word in his mouth before he says it, “ - _We_ do not want to lose anyone else.”

You finally register the source of his frenetic energy from earlier. It’s fear. Beel is afraid.

(But is it any wonder? He still dreams of her falling. You have fallen asleep with him in your arms, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.)

" _Please_ ," he says, and oh hell, it almost sounds like begging. Your fists are clenched so tight they tremble, tears of frustration burning your eyes - but, fuck fuck _fuck_ \- you nod.

It is the hardest thing you have ever done.

You swear by all the seven layers of hell that you tried to keep your promise. You stayed in the room, even as every fibre of your being begged you to leave, gather your hapless boys, and book it back to the Devildom. Even if you aren’t sure that the Devildom is something you could go back to.

Regardless, far from content, you had remained.

Until you hear shouting.

Loud crashing noises come from further down the hall, falling rubble causing tremors in the ground.

“Heeeeelp!” You crack open the door just in time to see Luke turn the far corner of the hall into your view. He’s doing a mix of frantic running and bursts of flight, his downy white wings struggling to assist him. You open the door more, and call out to him.

“Luke!” He sees you, and relief washes over his face. He’s yards closer to you when a devil twice your size comes crashing around the corner after Luke. Luke sees it over his shoulder, shouting again in terror. You’ve never seen devils like this - all the ones at RAD had some human-like features. The only thing similar to a human in this beast is the fact that it stands on two legs.

It roars, chasing Luke down the hall. He somehow makes it to your room, and you slam the door shut behind him.

"Quick, the wardrobe!" You and Luke shove the wardrobe to cover the door, but it won't last. You grab Luke by the hand and head to the opposite side of the room, away from the door. You’d have a chance to get out by the balcony this way - you might not be able to fly, but you could probably scale down the side of the building if you had to.

It’s only a few seconds after you’ve propped the wardrobe in front of the door that the devil starts to bang on the outside. The strikes are solid, you both wince as each hit shakes the walls around you.

The deluge ceases, and for a moment, you let yourself hope that it gave up. No such luck, it seems, as there is one last mighty roar before the door is punched in. The wardrobe crashes to the floor, the door in pieces in the frame.

The devil is even uglier up close, and you and Luke shout in fear. Luke grabs your sleeve, points at the side of the room, then himself and the other side of the room. Somehow, you understand what he’s saying to do, and you nod. You hope it works.

As the devil charges straight towards you, you and Luke bolt in different directions around it to the exit. The elation you feel as you clear the doorway makes you laugh in exhilaration, but it’s short lived as the devil spins on its heel and comes straight for you.

You dive out of the way, barely missing the outstretched claws grasping for you. Thanking your parents for all those forced sports attempts, you’re well aware of the correct way to fall, rolling forward to avoid injury. Reflexes only get you so far, and you can only keep dodging until the devil catches on. You’ve got to figure out something else, or the two of you are screwed.

There has to be a weapon somewhere here.. You look around, but there’s nothing around. Luke has his sword drawn, but he’s clearly terrified. You should call one of the brothers, they’ll come if you call -

“Get back!” Simeon shouts, before he’s diving down from the air into the devil.

The devil hisses in pain as Simeon manages to get in a strike. Simeon’s element of surprise lasts only momentarily before the other lashes back - and just like that, you’re seeing your first true example of an angel’s strength.

Simeon fights while flying, his elegant wings slicing through the air as he brandishes a long silver sword. A glittering blue jewel that matches his eyes is set into the pommel, and his strikes are effortless. As talented a fighter Simon seems, there’s a sluggishness to him that seems out of the ordinary for the other. For a moment, it seems like Simeon will win this fight.

How could this monster win against a fighter as graceful and quick as Simeon?

But then you can only watch in horror as Simeon jerks after moving a certain way, wincing. The hesitation is all the leeway the beast needs as he swings a huge, clawed arm through the air. It collides with Simeon, sending him crashing into one of the walls. It crumbles on top of him, dust and ash filling the air. You do not see him get up, squeezing Luke in your arms. The devil rears its ugly head to the both of you. It snarls, red eyes sizing you up.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, one hand reaching out, a last, feeble attempt at defusing the situation. The brothers were reasonable, why should communication only work with the ones on the council?

A moment passes where the beast tilts his head to the side, before his snarl grows into a toothy grin.

“But I want to.”

It lunges towards you and Luke, you close your eyes as you raise your arm in a feeble attempt to block the attack. You hear the sound of a blade slicing through the air, a gurgled shout, a heavy thud.

The attack never comes.

You open your eyes to see the angel standing in front of the two of you. Simeon is breathtaking, your new personal picture definition of a guardian angel with his striking dark skin and ethereal wings still glowing underneath the soot covering him. The long silver sword in his hand glints as the angle changes, ashes of the devil dripping from the blade.

“Simeon!” Luke shouts, his fists in the air. Simeon’s sword disappears. He turns to smile at the two of you. Something is not right.

At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Simeon stumbles, one step, another step - you’re rushing forward before you realize it, grunting when you both tumble to the ground.

You never knew angels could bleed.

But then there’s Simeon, and he’s doing a whole damn lot of it right in your arms.

Bleeding might not be the right term for it - the angel in your arms with the huge gash across his front isn’t oozing _blood_. Rather, something that resembles a liquid gold. _Ichor_ , your mind supplies. The blood of the gods. There are constant, dizzying reminders that you are in a league of beings far above your own. Perhaps it’s just the blood making you lightheaded.

“Simeon, oh, Simeon,“ Luke is wailing, on his knees in front of you and Simeon. Simeon places one hand on his chest, touching around the wound.

He winces, but smiles again.

“Luke, you really need to learn to lighten up.” Simeon closes his eyes and lays his head back against your shoulder, his dark hair fanning across you.

“But you’re _dying_ ,” Luke sobs, and Simeon opens one eye to peer at him.

“ _Dying_? Where did you get a crazy notion like that?” Simeon closes his eyes again, “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to rest.”

Now that you can have a coherent thought past sheer panic and alarm at the whole golden blood thing, you’re intimately aware of how soft Simeon’s wings are against your touch. His aura is soothing to be around, even though he’s injured. This close to him, you see that there are other various scrapes and cuts on the other’s body. He must have been nearby when it all started and got caught in the resulting fray.

“What happened, Simeon?” You ask, although you’re not quite sure you’ll want to hear it. The angel doesn’t respond for a long moment.

“I tried to prevent this from happening. I told him,” Simeon opens his eyes, looking up at you. “I told Diavolo that He wouldn’t show up. Diavolo didn’t believe me.” He sighs, closing his eyes again.

“He said that after all this work, He would _of course_ show up,” he sounds as close to bitter as you’ve ever heard him. You chew on your lip.

“It’s only the second year of the exchange program?” You say, but Simeon shakes his head.

“Diavolo’s efforts have been going on for far longer than this little project of his.” Right, Diavolo made a pact with Lucifer immediately after the battle that killed Lilith, thousands of years ago. It checks out, and you tell him as much. “He’s furious that for all the work he’s put into this, it appears that He refuses to properly acknowledge his efforts.”

“What Diavolo doesn’t understand is...” Simeon begins, and Luke sits upright.

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?! That’s forbidden knowledge!” Luke protests, but Simeon gives him a level stare.

“Look around us, Luke. What more harm could it do?” He says, and Luke looks like he’s about to protest, but doesn’t. Simeon sits up in your arms, one hand going to his wound. You and Luke both reach out to him, but he waves you away with the other hand. He props himself against the wall. His blood is like a concentrated pigment of gold on your hands, slick between your fingers.

“It’s not the entire reason Lucifer rebelled, but it’s part of it.” Your breath catches in your throat. None of the brothers like to talk about it. Most of them dance around the subject completely. “There’s little chance of Diavolo getting an audience with Him, because no one’s actually _seen_ Him in years.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, all the while wondering how the hell that’s even remotely possible.

“It’s heresy to do so…” Simeon’s light blue eyes are unreadable, and you feel as if though you will never know what he is truly thinking here.

“But there are those that claim the throne is empty.”

Everything stops.

You look down, the rumpled green fabric of your button up growing dark with blood. Your lips part in a silent cry, Mammon's arms suddenly wrapping around you as he lowers you to the ground. He's being so gentle with you, you want to tease him about it. His lips are forming words, but it's become harder to follow.

" - oi, you stupid human. Pay attention to me! Whaddaya think you're doing, getting in the way like that?!" Lucifer looms over his shoulder, a frozen, horrified expression on his beautiful face. You're happy to see him.

"I'm sorry," it takes you a moment to muster a smile, "You know I'm too nosy for my own good." The last word ends on a cough.

Lucifer's face quickly darkens with rage. His wings, expand to their full, outstretched lengths. His eyes burn as they linger on you, before they look up to glare at someone you can't turn to see. He takes one step forward, before his expression turns stunned. He takes another, as if he can’t believe it - the third step, and a determined, vicious look settles over Lucifer’s face.

As funny as it sounds, you’re vaguely comforted by Lucifer’s conviction.

"The oath is broken," Satan says, shock in his voice. You find yourself not sure what he means by that.

Lovingly, you place a hand on Mammon's cheek, who's getting your blood all over him as he holds you close. He looks scared, and young - as young as a being who has lived over a millenia can look. You would be worried about him, about all of these brothers that have wormed their way close to your heart… but you know that Lucifer will always take care of them, with or without you there.

You smile at Mammon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only remaining evidence of anything happening in the first place is a long, thin white scar extending from your left shoulder almost to your right hip bone, crossing directly over your heart. It is a wound that should have killed you.
> 
> “Angel healing powers are truly amazing,” you sigh, smiling gratefully at Simeon. “Thank you.”
> 
> “ _We_ did not heal you.” Simeon says, a concerned frown on his face.

You remember the first time Belphie kissed you.

"You're too reckless," Belphie says.

You stir, pulled away from the edge of sleep by his words. Your eyes struggle to open, lulled into complacency by Belphegor's warmth.

"Mm, what?" You say, lost in the decadent swaddle of his comforters. Beel snores quietly on your other side, his strong chest pressed against your back. Being tucked between the two twins for weekend post-Beel’s workout naps has become an almost regular occurrence, one that you never saw coming - and yet, it happens without fail.

(It was strange, at first - the brothers readjusting to Belphie being back, and Belphie trying to figure out how to react to your presence in general.

All it really took was time, because one day, Beel crawled into bed with Belphie. You got up to leave to let them have their quiet time, but Belphie stared straight into your soul and held out his hand.

"Are you coming?")

Belphie doesn't say anything more, and you almost let yourself fall back into the comfortable rhythm of Beel's breathing. But something about his words settles strangely in your chest.

"Did you say something?" You ask, stirring a little more. You open your eyes properly to see Belphie staring at you in his arms. Belphie blushes, averting his gaze.

"You're too reckless," he says again, "You're just a human - a weak, delicate human." His eyebrows furrow. He speaks the truth. You laugh, quietly, so as to not wake Beel. The look he gives you at that is even more bewildered than before.

"So I've been told."

"Are you stupid? We could crush you. It would be effortless," he seems almost distressed.

"Hey, are you alright?" You want to sit up, but Beel's arm is wrapped firmly over you like a seat belt.

"You're stupid. You have a smart mouth that would get you killed usually. I don't know how or if my brothers have glossed over it, but you don't realize the level of danger you're in _all the time_."

Even as endeared as you are, you can’t help the small smirk, "Are you worried about me?"

Belphie blushes again, narrowing his eyes at you, "No."

He stops, snorts to himself, "I'm starting to act like Mammon." Belphie reaches out, smooths away a lock of hair that fell into your face. His hand traces down to your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side, an unintended invitation. There’s a look of wonderment on Belphie’s face. He looks at you like you’re something beautiful.

Then he wraps his hand around your neck.

"Are you afraid?” He whispers.

He isn't hurting you at all, but it is a surprising situation you’ve found yourself in. You are reckless. And yes, perhaps too unruly, too trusting - a lamb in a den of wolves. But you're not afraid.

You lick your lips.

“No.”

"Perhaps you should be." Belphie's gaze is unfathomable, and then he's squeezing. You crane your head back, gasping lightly. This is your favorite part of the memory. This is where Belphie's eyes widen. His hold will loosen, as if burned by you. But then something will change in his eyes, he'll touch your cheek like you're something special, too special to lose - and then he'll kiss you.

That’s not what happens this time.

Belphegor’s face falls out of focus, until you can’t see anything but a smear of chaotic colors, and you’re struck with the sinking feeling that something terrible is about to happen. The disembodied hand tightens around your neck, beginning to cut off your air. This isn’t how this went. This isn't right. You struggle against his grip, your hands grabbing at his. Beel will wake up, he has to notice your distress. You open your mouth to scream, but you can’t speak. The air has been punched from your lungs. Your chest throbs once with pain. The hand disappears, and you cough as air fills your lungs once more. You reach up to protectively cover your throat, only to discover there’s a wetness covering your chest. Looking down at your hands, you’re shocked at the rapidly growing amount of blood.

Panic sparks in your chest as you scramble at your shirt, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

Then you're falling back, but someone catches you. They're lowering you to the ground, so gently you wish you could see who it was. They reach a hand around you, and your hands go to grasp at theirs. Unimpeded by your frantic motions, the hand covers Diavolo's mistake. Warmth rushes through you, a sweet euphoria of calm floods your senses. A blinding bright light and someone says your name. You reach your hands out and -

Your eyes fly open, gasping as you wake. Even as you try to hold onto it, the memories of the dream seem to slip through your fingers with each passing second awake. For a moment, you stare up at the cream ceiling, your heart races again for a completely different reason.

Are you in a hospital?

A dream? Was it all a dream?

The thought scares you more than dying, somehow. But that fear is quickly laid to rest as you tilt your head to survey the rest of your surroundings.

The decor in the room is unmistakable. You're still in the Celestial Realm. You exhale in relief. You shift slightly, only to realize the only thing keeping you from getting up is a steady weight around your waist. Looking down, you’re greeted by the fluffy mop of Mammon’s white hair. The other is molded to your side, snoring softly. His arm being around you explains the confined feeling you felt in your nightmare. You're hit with a wave of relief and affection at Mammon's clinginess, and try to pet him. As soon as you raise your hand, however, pain shoots through you.

 _Damn_ , everything hurts like hell. You can’t stifle the groan that escapes you, wriggling out of Mammon’s grip a little to sit upright. It’s a little difficult, there is an ungodly ( _ha_!) amount of pillows surrounding you.

“You’re awake.” Solomon’s hushed voice is both amazed and intrigued. You turn to see Solomon sitting on a nearby couch. Simeon is angled away from you, sitting on the table in front of him. Solomon has his arm extended out to Simeon, and you can see the healing glow from his hands cease as he turns to look at you as well.

You see Solomon and Simeon both try to stand - but Simeon’s quick to place a firm hand on Solomon’s shoulder, holding him down.

“Please, _stop_.” He holds a hand out at you as well, and you freeze in surprise, “Neither of you is in any state to be moving around.” There’s a no-nonsense tone to his voice, and you both settle in bashfully at his admonishments. Solomon winces as he leans back into the couch. The bed is more comfortable than the one you have in the Devildom and the one back home combined, and you’re thankful for how it eases your soreness.

“Simeon, you’re alive,” you say, relief filling your chest. Simeon laughs, and picks up a glass of water from the table. He brings it over to you, and you greedily down its contents, not realizing how parched you were until this moment.

“I told Luke he was being dramatic." His head tilts to the side, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a bus,” you admit.

“You sort of were,” Solomon offers. Simeon tosses a Look back at the other. Solomon shrugs with an apologetic smile. Your brows furrow at the exchange, before it all comes back to you in a rush. The brothers, Diavolo’s attack, _your wound_ \- there had been so much blood. Gasping, you pull at the collar of your tunic, looking down at your chest. Surprisingly, there are no bandages holding your chest together. In fact, there’s not even a bruise or a scab.

The only remaining evidence of anything happening in the first place is a long, thin white scar extending from your left shoulder almost to your right hip bone, crossing directly over your heart. It is a wound that should have killed you.

“Angel healing powers are truly amazing,” you sigh, smiling gratefully at Simeon. “Thank you.”

“ _We_ did not heal you.” Simeon says, a concerned frown on his face.

You open your mouth to ask what he means when the door is thrown open.

“They told me it was a miracle,” Lucifer says, out of breath like he’d run there. His hair is a little disheveled, as if he's run his hand through it recently. The black button up he wears under his uniform has the sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone. Though the casual look is far from how he usually composes himself, it’s still captivating in its novelty.

"Lucifer -" you beam, hands reaching out for him, only to stop at the other's expression. Lucifer’s eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. He’s not lost to rage like the time he struck you down two years ago, but Lucifer is no stranger to cruelty. He strides towards the bed, but stops halfway in the room as if something is holding him back. By the look on his face, he may be trying to hold _himself_ back.

"Miracles don't exist." Lucifer says, his white knuckled fists hang at his sides. You notice he isn’t wearing his gloves either - even as your confusion mounts, you can’t help but take a second to appreciate it.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confused at his ire. “Miracles?”

“You died.” Lucifer says your name, his dark red eyes narrowing at you. Your lips part in shock - what is he talking about? _Died_? Although, the more you think about it, the more likely it seems. You don't want to think too deeply about it, but Diavolo's strike was definitely deeper than any treatable wound. 

Simeon gives Lucifer a loaded look, blatantly full of things unsaid, "You should know better than anyone…"

" _He_ is exactly why I know better.” Lucifer’s face darkens with rage as he speaks, “There is no such thing as a miracle - there is always an ulterior motive, some _secret_ , unknowable plan," the mocking tone in his voice can’t be ignored. You find yourself unsure who exactly he’s angry at right now - but as his words hang in the silence of the room, Mammon grumbles.

“Nrgh…” Mammon stirs at your side, possibly sensing all the activity or the intimidating aura Lucifer is giving off, “What the big idea?”

He opens his eyes, blinking slowly, before they shoot open in alarm, “You’re awake!” He says to you, before noticing Lucifer, who paints a terrifying image with the expression on his face and looming presence.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?!” He says, definitely not shrinking into your side.

“That is what I’d like to know,” Lucifer takes a step towards you. Your heart rate skips in involuntary fear - Lucifer, for all of his kindnesses, is still the most powerful of the brothers. If it wasn’t for Lucifer’s oath, you’ve heard that Diavolo and Lucifer would be close in power. It would be nothing for him to tear you to shreds.

But you have not stood down in front of him yet.

“I don’t know.” The bravery in your voice surprises even you. Mammon squeezes his arms around you, even as he hides behind your shoulder.

“Then how are you alive?”

“ _I don’t know_.” Lucifer takes another step towards you, and unexpectedly, Simeon is the one that steps in. You and Solomon both blink at him in surprise.

Simeon stands to his full height by the bed, his hand touching the post, “I know it’s not my place to intrude, but we _are_ in the Celestial Realm and they are injured.” Simeon does not radiate menace like Lucifer, but there is an unidentified, almost palpable tension in the air.

“ _You_ are injured, angel,” he threatens, staring Simeon down with cold eyes. Simeon gives him a casual smile and shrug, but makes no move out of Lucifer’s path. Solomon raises his hands up, trying to diffuse the situation.

“I don’t believe this is where your true fight lays, Lucifer.” Lucifer’s nostrils flare - you cringe. Solomon might have made this worse. You jump in before things spiral even more out of control.

“Guys. It’s okay,” Simeon and Solomon look at you, and you try to give them your most convincing smile. You look at Lucifer, even as you continue speaking to Simeon, “He won’t hurt me.” If you weren’t staring, you might have missed the almost imperceptible quirk of his brow at your boldness.

“Would you give us a moment?” You don’t take your eyes off of Lucifer. It’s almost like a power struggle, and to avert your eyes is to fail. Simeon, bless him, just sighs. He helps Solomon off of the couch, slinging the other’s arm around his neck, and the two exit without another word. You jostle the arm Mammon is clinging to.

“You too, Mammon.” He immediately shouts with displeasure.

“What! I’m not leaving you alone with him,” he says. Lucifer doesn’t growl, but there’s a definite palpable prickle of aggravation.

“Mammon…” Lucifer is the first to break eye contact, and he glares at Mammon. You feel yourself breathe for the first time in that entire exchange. You shrug your arm again.

“Please, Mammon. It’ll be fine.” You say, once again proud of the steady candor of your voice. You lace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand in a way you hope is reassuring. He grumbles a litany of colorful complaints under his breath, but complies with your request.

“Just… call if ya need me,” Mammon lingers at the door. He’s adding too much emphasis to the word _call_ for it to be subtle, all the while flicking worried, suspicious glances between you and Lucifer. Lucifer turns to the door, and while you can’t see his expression, you can see the terrified one on Mammon’s face as he slams the door shut.

Lucifer waits a few moments to listen, as if he can hear Mammon walking away from the door. You have no such abilities, so you sit in the bed with your fingers tangled like your nerves. A moment passes, and Lucifer seems satisfied with what he’s heard. He looks at you, and for a second, you’re reminded that he was furious not five minutes ago. Although, ten seconds in a room alone with him and you’re not dead?

Your future’s looking brighter already.

"Is everyone alright?" You tread into uncharted waters. Lucifer's stern expression softens for a moment, but it goes as quickly as it came.

“They’re fine. Probably on their way here, which is why you need to answer me now.” He is determined for answers. "How are you alive?"

You know it will displease him, but you really have none. You frown, hands clutching at the blanket in your lap. "I don't know."

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lucifer is clearly losing the little patience he had regained in his aggravated state. "Do you realize how _stupid_ it was of you to do what you did?"

He growls, and you feel a flare of anger in your chest. You throw your hands into the air, palms up, "What was I supposed to do? Run away? Get eaten by one of Diavolo's little demons!?"

"Anything else. Absolutely _anything else_ would have been better than throwing yourself in front of the _future King of the Devildom_!" He snaps, before taking a moment to compose himself. The look Lucifer gives you next is scathing in its intensity.

"You are a human. He could have wiped you out of existence. In fact, he almost succeeded! There is absolutely nothing you could have done to stop him. You think that _love_ and _hope_ can save the day? Your naivete has been, and will continue to be, your downfall." His tone is so harsh, it makes tears prickle at your eyes. Your head whips to the side, glaring up at a spot high on the far wall in defiance to the tears. You bite the inside of your cheek. You do not want to appear weak in front of Lucifer - a snide voice inside tells you that it's too late. Lucifer has, and always will, see you as nothing but a weak, defenseless human.

Is he wrong, though? That's all you are. No superhuman strength to beat your foes. No celestial powers to hide behind. Your magic will never be stronger than Solomon's, regardless of how many hours he spends with you.

"I’m _sorry_." You close your eyes. “I’m sorry that I’m weak, stupid, and reckless. My continued existence in your worlds is only by sheer luck and the fact that I’ve always had you all with me. You’re _right_ , Lucifer. There’s nothing I could have done to protect myself, or even remotely help you and your family.” You take a deep breath, and look at Lucifer with all the resolute, stubborn love you hold in your heart.

“But I will _never_ be sorry for trying.”

You steel yourself for whatever reproach he has left to give, unflinching in your resolve. But it doesn’t come, and Lucifer simply stares at you for a long moment.

“You truly are too nosy for your own good.” He repeats what you’d said to him as you died, unmistakable wonder under his irritation. Tears spring to your eyes again, and this time you quickly wipe them away while he glances out the window. He looks back at you after another pause.

“Do you really not know how you are alive?” He asks, gentler this time as he settles into the armchair next at your bedside.

You shake your head, trying to level out your breathing again. You cross your arms to think, “No idea. Last thing I remember was being in Mammon’s arms, and seeing the two of you.” A memory lingers on the edges of your mind, but you are unable to produce it. “I think I had a dream… There was something holding me down in it, but I thought it was just because Mammon’s arm was over me.”

Your words are slow to come, face drawn in intense concentration as you try. “But I can’t remember anything else. Just fear, and then warmth, and nothing.” You focus on your hands in your lap, tangled in the sheets again. Nothing else comes.

“That’s it. I’m sorry.” You look up at Lucifer with a weak, apologetic smile.

He’s staring at you, and you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. Lucifer has always been the most enigmatic of the brothers. Each new facet of his personality, each discovered quirk - they remain hidden until they’re thrust into the light, and each time you find yourself giddy with the reveal. His unrelenting gaze makes you fidget, and you almost open your mouth in your awkwardness to keep talking -

“I am also sorry.” Lucifer interrupts. You’re stunned at the admission. “My reaction was… cruel. You have been through an ordeal.” He frowns at you, “I can only hope you understand where it comes from - the last time I saved someone I loved, there was a catch.” Lilith. Just the implication of her makes your heart ache for these boys.

“I have been sworn to serve for longer than I can remember. Then, after giving up everything, I found myself _immediately_ at someone else’s beck and call. Is it wrong for me to be suspicious or enraged when my leash only seems to pass from one hand to another?” Lucifer’s grip tightens on the armrests. 

“I don’t want anyone to have your leash, Lucifer. I want you to be free.” You want to reach out to him, but the distance between you both stretches farther than any ocean.

Lucifer presses his lips together, before he sighs, “I believe you.”

Another silent, emotion-filled beat passes, before he speaks again. “May I see it?” You almost ask for him to clarify, but then really, what else could it be? You nod. Lucifer rises, nearing the bed like he’s approaching a scared deer - but you watch him without fear. His ungloved hand hooks into the fabric of your collar, and he tugs it down gently. At the sight of the long scar, his expression morphs into one of barely concealed rage. You swallow around the lump in your throat, grabbing his hand in your own. Lucifer’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair, startled out of his thoughts, lips parting. He squeezes your hand in response, a tentative, tense smile beginning to play at his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re alright.” You say, thumb stroking the back of his hand, trying to distract him from the darker feelings. Lucifer looks like he’s thinking about saying something, only to chuckle under his breath.

“Despite my earlier reaction, I feel the same.” He cups your cheek; you’re struck by how beautiful he is, and how much his touch lights a fire in you. It’s hard to explain what you’re hoping will happen here - well, you know what you’d _like_ to happen, but that’s never going to…

The slow drag of Lucifer’s eyes to your lips is sinful in nature, and pulls the air from your lungs. An involuntary action, your own lips part. Your heart thuds in your chest as he shifts closer, hand still on your cheek. There’s vulnerability in the confused quirk of his brows, as if he can’t believe what he’s doing either. Slowly, as if moving too fast will scare him away, you arch up as he begins to bend down. His head tilts, your hand fisted so tightly in the sheets it’s almost painful -

You hear a muffled talking coming from on the other side of the door, “What’s going on? I can’t hear them anymore...”

Lucifer freezes.

“ _Agh_! Stop shoving me, stupid Mammon,” comes Levi’s response to what must have been Mammon struggling to eavesdrop at the door.

The moment between you passes, as quickly as it came, and Lucifer is clearing his throat. He pulls his hand away, and runs it through his hair. Your hand lingers in the air for a moment, chasing his touch - but smile when you realize the look on his face isn’t upset.. It’s… he’s _blushing_.

Asmo gasps, “Oh no, Lucifer killed them!” It’s a very light, almost unnoticeable pink at the tips of his ears, barely dusting his cheeks. You can’t help the growing grin on your face, your fingers lacing together in your lap, the picture of innocence.

“I…” Lucifer begins, but he is once again interrupted by their nonsense.

“Hell no he didn’t… Lucifer! _Oi_!” you hear, and then the doorknob is shaking rapidly as Mammon tries to enter. Lucifer sighs, long and deep, like his soul is trying to leave his body. His annoyance is only skin deep, you can tell by how there’s still a rueful hint of a smile on his lips. It takes him a few moments to walk to the door as the scuffle intensifies on the other side, someone pushing against the door as someone bangs on it.

“The door’s locked! _Lucifer_! Beel, come break it down,” Mammon shouts from the other side, just as Lucifer reaches out and unlocks it. The other boys don’t give Lucifer enough credit for his sense of humor, because the look of pure _“you made pacts with these idiots?”_ he gives you as he swings the door open is hilarious.

You have to muffle the surprised laughter with your hands as the brothers come tumbling down into the room. Mammon is at the bottom of the pile, then Levi, Belphie, and Beel on top of him. Mammon is cursing up a storm at being squished under everyone, but Levi, Belphie, and Beel just seem stunned. Satan and Asmo linger at the door, looking in cautiously.

Lucifer’s disapproving stare down at the brothers on the floor is immeasurable in strength.

“You’re still alive,” Asmo points at you, wrapping Satan into a hug that somehow ends with Satan holding Asmo - the other consents, a slight grin on his face even as he rolls his eyes at Asmo. Under different circumstances, you might thank God, except that doesn’t seem appropriate now - but they all look relatively unharmed. You knew Mammon had some scrapes from being with him earlier, and Levi has a long cut under his eye, but he’s grinning. Asmo’s hair is rumpled in a way that can’t be intentionally but is still beautiful, and Satan’s sweater is singed at his sleeves. Beel’s stomach rumbles loudly, but otherwise he and Belphie are comfortably attached at the hip.

Ignoring Asmo’s comment with a haughty frown, he gives a Look at each of the brothers.

“I should not have to warn you all about overcrowding,” When Lucifer says your name, more warmth blossoms in your chest, but despite Lucifer’s warning, some of the boys bound over to you. You’re grateful for the huge, dream-like Celestial Realm bed once more as they dive in with you. Mammon takes up your left side, Belphie tucks in at your right - Beel surrounds Belphie on his other side. Levi takes up a much more reasonable spot, lying at an angle closer to the foot of the bed on his back, his portable gaming device in his hands.

“Back off, cow boy!” Mammon shoves at Belphie, who in response, thwacks him with the pillow over you. Mammon yelps, hiding in your shoulder. Mammon kicks out, jostling Levi and his game.

“GTFO, Mammon!” Levi snaps, “You’re messing up this run!” You _oof_ at the eagerness of the brothers, laughing even as your body protests their rough treatment.

“Easy, boys,” Asmo pouts, “You’ve got to be delicate!” He’s pulled himself away from Satan, holding his elbow in one hand and placing his palm on his cheek with the other, “And yet… I find myself envious of the position our little human has found themselves in…” He sighs dreamily at all the attention you’re surrounded with.

“Asmo…” Satan groans, but there’s little heat to it. As one of the more reserved brothers, he’s not likely to join the spontaneous cuddle party in your bed. He relaxes into one of the bedside armchairs, long legs crossed.

“I thought you said you would stay in the room, where it was safe.” He says, but you can tell he’s happy to see you’re alright.

“I tried, I promise!” You hold your hands out, palms up as you shrug.

“Not very hard, it seems,” Satan tilts his head to the side. You can’t help the shit eating grin on your face.

“Perhaps it was divine intervention.”

This garners a snort from him, “Perhaps.”

All of a sudden, Asmo throws his hands into the air, “ _Oh_! I can’t hold myself back.” He throws himself gracefully into the bed, squishing Mammon, who squawks with the weight. The brothers are comfortably bickering around you, though they’re being much more gentle in their attentions as they settle in. Lucifer is still standing by the door, watching the exchanges between you and his brothers. There’s a distant, almost fond look in his eye - it disappears when he realizes you’re looking at him. He averts his gaze and coughs.

“I will leave you to… rest,” he says, dryly, “I must go find Simeon and Michael.”

He says the latter’s name with a strange hitch to his voice. You hadn’t even considered what’s going on outside this room. Though it seems the active threat has passed, you’re sure that the entire Celestial Realm is alive with activity right now. You want to offer to go with him, but you don’t see yourself extricating yourself from this bed anytime soon.

"Even after death, you play a dangerous game." Belphie leans to murmur in your ear. You shiver, surprised by his breath on your skin - you didn't realize he'd been watching you stare after Lucifer. You turn your head to blow a short puff of air in his face, making Belphie squint. You hope it distracts from the light flush still on your skin. 

"You know me, Belph. A lamb in a den of wolves." You grin, before nuzzling your face into his hair.

You sense someone in the room before you ever see them.

You jerk into an upright sitting position, your eyes flying open. In the silence of the room, the sound of your pounding heart is abnormally loud. Moonlight streams in through the windows. Unlike the Devildom, where it is always twilight, the Celestial Ream cycles between the true sun and moon. You’re alone in bed - a stern, intimidating angel had kicked the brothers out of the room, saying that she wouldn’t have them disturbing your rest any more than they already had. You’d snickered at them all, being chastised like children under her sharp tone.

That’s when you notice Diavolo is sitting in one of the chairs by your bedside.

Your mouth opens to scream, scrambling out of the covers - but something has taken your voice with a pressure around your neck. It holds you in place. Diavolo has one arm outstretched, held in a fist. His pale, gold eyes are too bright, the rest of his face obscured by the shadows. It takes a second of struggling before you realize that while Diavolo is terrifying, he isn’t killing you - yet, at least. Once you get that perplexed thought through your head, you narrow your eyes at him.

“Done?” He asks. You wish you knew how to glare like Lucifer.

“Now, don’t bother screaming. That’s not what I’m here for.” He gives you a smile that’s far kinder than you’d have expected, kind enough that it almost feels like an insult - and he releases the magic with a twist of his wrist. Slowly, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react... but when all you do is continue to glare, even as you feel the pressure leave your throat, he simply stares at you for a moment before chuckling. “I bet it annoys the hell out of the brothers that their powers don’t work on you, especially Asmo.”

Is he joking? Diavolo can probably see your mounting confusion.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice cracks, but you blame it on his power. You thought you knew the answer, but your continued existence proves otherwise.

“I came to see the _miracle_ for myself.” Diavolo rises. He’s not using his powers on you right now, but there’s something in his gaze that has you frozen in place. It should be absolute terror, considering this demon killed you - but if you’re honest, it’s that _and_ curiosity. Diavolo reaches out one hand, finger tucking into the collar of the loose tunic the angels lent you, pulling it down. You crane your neck away, hands fisted in the sheets, avoiding his touch as much as possible.

More and more of your skin is revealed as the fabric is dragged away, your face turning bright red. Diavolo’s eyes could almost burn right through you, his gold eyes glinting as they trace the new scar marring your skin. You hold your breath until your lungs ache, eyes flitting back from Diavolo to the ceiling to the door.

Clenching your jaw, you try your best to look brave, even as you can hardly form sentences, “I’ll call for them.”

Diavolo’s scrutiny drops into resigned sadness, “I’m afraid you wouldn’t get very far.” Your heart drops into your stomach.

He brings his gaze back to your eyes, pulling his hand away. His head tilts, and he looks confused.

“Are you here to kill me?” You ask in response. Diavolo has the gall to look surprised. He frowns.

“Well, I suppose that’s a fair assumption. But no, I’m not. I’m here to ask how you’re still alive.”

“No thanks to you,” you bite, allowing yourself some dignity, before immediately regretting it at the look on Diavolo’s face that says he’s amused, but also running out of patience. “ _I don’t know_. I don’t know how I’m alive.”

“Any bright lights? Voices? Gardens?” He questions, but you shake your head. What the hell is happening right now.

“No, none of that."

"Do you remember anything?" You continue to be dumbfounded that Diavolo is only asking questions, and not killing you like you thought he'd be. Diavolo leans back, rubbing his chin.

“No,” you protest, hands fisting at your sides, “I don’t remember anything after you killed me. I just woke up in this room, and I was all patched up.” It sounds ridiculous to even you, but it’s not far from the truth. Diavolo _hmms_ , and puts his hands on his hips. You don’t tell him about the dream.

“And there’s my point,” he says to you, and somehow, it still feels like you’re back in the Devildom and he’s teasing you with some secret that he’s excited for you to find out. Like it’s a _game_ you can both play. You have no idea what he’s trying to imply, and you hope the scrunched up look on your face is enough to explain that.

He sighs.

“I _killed_ you,” he says, “And yet you’re here. How? You were dead. Not saved from the reaper’s grip, not reincarnated into a tree, not pulled from another timeline… Dead.” Always a showman, he pauses before he finishes, watching your reaction.

“There’s only one being I know that can resurrect the dead, and I slaughtered you on His doorstep.”

Your eyes widen in realization.

“You think Lucifer’s Father saved me,” you say, it comes out as a whisper.

Diavolo beams at you, like he’s _proud_ or something. You don’t quite know what to think of that. He launches into a speech that reminds you of the council sessions you’ve sat in at Lucifer’s invitation. However, while RAD has an elaborate meeting chamber that strangely resembles Westminster Palace - this, you and Diavolo, hidden away within the intimate walls of this room, is something out of a dream turned nightmare.

“Of all the futures that Barbatos and I saw, we saw none where things could remain as they were. Not if we didn’t want history to repeat itself.

Lilith did not start the Celestial War by falling in love with a human - Celestial beings have been sleeping with humans since their creation. Magic was introduced to your race this way. Solomon’s probably the long lost result of a fling Gabriel had when he was a younger angel.” Diavolo seems amused by this, but you’re not laughing. The other sighs, as if he’d hoped you wouldn’t bring it to this.

“He started it. Lucifer’s Father - " Diavolo plucks a rose from the vase on your bedside table, and examines it as he speaks. When he mentions Lucifer’s father, he crushes the flower in his palm. Instead of crumpled petals slipping from his hand, it’s ash.

"The absent Father, leaving His children to flounder without His guiding hand." His voice sends shivers up your spine - Diavolo emanates power, he always has. His broad chest, gilded, twisting horns - he is every bit the picture of temptation - power, beauty, knowledge. You have always admired him, and would be lying to say that you still didn’t, even amidst this chaos.

“To truly create a world where we can all co-exist… The Almighty either answers the call, or He too will be judged.” You’ve never heard Diavolo sound cruel, but this is close to that.

“And this was the only way?” You gape at him, absolutely floored that all of this destruction, mayhem, was for a “good” reason. You narrow your eyes, “Why are you telling me any of this?” Diavolo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else for a long moment.

“Aren’t humans supposed to just _want_ to know why?” When you don’t laugh at his joke, he tilts his head to the side, as if disappointed. “I knew bringing you in was a risk.”

He shrugs, “It’s always been hard to predict how you will react, and Barbatos is not all-knowing, regardless of what he’d rather have us think.” Despite his overwhelming aura of power, the sigh he gives is so _human_ that you want to laugh, “It matters little if you believe me or not, but I never meant for you to be harmed. You were a gift, rather. For Lucifer, in hopes that he would see where I am coming from. To ease the shame he’s carried close in all his years of servitude to me. Now it seems that my mistake has made my plans all the more complicated.”

Diavolo seems genuine in his sadness, dropping back into the armchair. He spreads his legs, propping his elbow on the armrest, and holding his chin in his hand. It’s almost a sulk. You grit your teeth. You still don’t know why he’s telling you this, not after he struck you down a day or so ago - whether or not he intended to, you’re not sure if you believe what he tells you. You aren’t sure about anything now.

"I did not want to fight anyone," Diavolo says, no longer looking at you. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. When he bares the thick line of his neck at you, it is not meant as an insult to you, but it feels like one. Just another reminder of his power, leagues above your paltry magic tricks. Diavolo could be turned away, injured, or even fast asleep - you would never be able to strike him down. He takes another breath, and catches your gaze again.

“My true fight does not lay with you, the brothers, or even the righteous angels who would throw themselves into my path for their misplaced loyalty. The status quo implemented by our fathers is a broken system, and needs to be overthrown for any real progress,” you catch the almost imperceptible distaste in his voice as his lips form the words ‘ _fathers_ ’, and sense there’s more there.

(You rack your brain to remember what you can about the mysterious current Demon King - Diavolo never mentions him, but the Demon King has been covered in your RAD lessons. He sleeps at the very bottom layer of the Devildom - he has not made his presence known in a very, very long time.)

He leans forward as he speaks, elbows on his knees and hands laced together. This time, you see the true Diavolo. This is one that simmers intensely underneath the cheerful facade. Not the one that scoops you up in a crushing embrace when you gift him a Santa costume, or coos at pictures of Lucifer sleeping. You trace the line of his profile with your eyes, the sharp slant of his nose, the cut of his jaw - but it’s his eyes that capture you.

“I played their game. I waited hundreds - no, _thousands_ of years. Hell burns hotter each passing day, until even the devils born in it are reduced to ash. The once green pastures of earth are nothing but scorched, barren wastes. Angels grow stagnant, fat in their wretched pride - who is to say that these brothers, these first seven fallen, are the ones in the wrong?”

Diavolo’s bright eyes pierce your soul - he sees the ambition that drives you, the desire that burns you alive, he sees what you want, _more than anything in this world_ \- the cacophony of emotions he stirs in you is too much for you to bear. Unable to keep his gaze, your chest heaves as you look down, a mere mortal in the face of his overwhelming power.

“ _That_ is what I feel. For the future I have seen, I will do anything.”

This is the next Demon King. 

“Where does Lucifer fit into all of this?” You ask, the question leaping from your lips before you have a chance to stifle it. A surprised smile quirks at Diavolo’s lips, and he leans back in the chair.

“Think about it,” when Diavolo says your name, it makes you shudder to your core, “Why would I make an oath with Lucifer, of all the fallen angels?”

“Because he’s the strongest?” Shaking his head, Diavolo turns, and stands. You’re thankful you’re seated. You aren’t sure your legs would support you as he approaches. After all, he’s killed you once already. His eyes are honeyed gold and heavy with reverence, though you have the feeling it’s not meant for you. Diavolo reaches out to take your chin in his hand - the touch is intimate, delicate as he tilts your head to look up at him.

(You would be ashamed if anyone knew how you arched into it, but humans have burned for less.)

“Because he was the first to _doubt_.”

And then Diavolo is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anyone's wondering, this au is mc/all the brothers. but why stop there?! anyone i can ship mc with, i will.
> 
> this was an alcohol induced, self-indulgent 1k drabble about Diavolo being an antagonist gone rogue, but thanks for coming to watch it be 8k of mc being smothered in attention while injured in bed  
> 
> 
> I don’t know if I’ll write more in this AU because ~~I rewrote it like four times~~ / ~~I’ve already spent most of my religious childhood sympathizing with the devil~~ / ~~I want to write cute MC/Solomon~~ / ~~I’m bad committing to a plot~~ / ~~I get too drunk~~ **reasons** , but if anyone ever wants to talk about Diavolo being morally dubious, come find me @ indiavolojones.tumblr.com!


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